


this is me over you

by roserefs



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Exes, Getting Back Together, M/M, Photography
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 05:35:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29853348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roserefs/pseuds/roserefs
Summary: As a photography major, Minho has to complete an assignment that showcases the wonders of Seoul.It's a simple project that shouldn't take more than a few hours, but he's been paired up with his ex-boyfriend, Jisung. Now, they have to spend an entire day in the city together, the unspoken words between them suffocating.Except, this project might be just what they need to revive their friendship... and perhaps more?
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 8
Kudos: 78





	this is me over you

**Author's Note:**

> hi everyone!
> 
> this is my first (hmmm) work for stray kids. i just love minsung so much, i had to write them.
> 
> i hope you like my story!

Photography meant three things to Lee Minho. 

It was the selfies he took on his phone with the Snow app. He spent more time on that app than he’d like to admit, but it wasn’t his fault that the creative directors and underpaid graphic design interns of Snow had made so many useless but entertaining filters. Now was it actually considered real photography? In his book, the combination of his face with effects that turned him into miscellaneous tropical fruits was a form of modern art. 

It was the snapshots he took for his family on their monthly outings. His parents were big fans of botanical gardens and national parks, always spouting some nonsense about Minho being a Design and Media student and wanting to “capture this moment.” Then even more nonsense about how Minho had no right to complain. They were his parents, they paid for his degree. The least he could do was to use some of that knowledge and take the best photos he could with the dinky digital camera they had bought in 2013.

It was the reason he was a Design and Media student to begin with, the passion forever running through his veins since he picked up said digital camera in 2013. He began by photographing objects in his room: the trophies, the lamp, even his calculator. He was pleased with himself, with his head held high as he showed off his pictures to his friends and relatives that looked more like a cheap stock photo than anything else.

Looking back, it was obvious that he had no idea what he was doing. Every shot was out of frame or out of focus, taken at such a poor quality even though the man at the electronics store had advertised the camera as “beginner-friendly.”

Though, there's a fourth meaning now. 

Photography now also means he’s dreading the next week and a half, partnered up with his ex-boyfriend on some shitty midterm assignment.

\---

This is how it started.

Lee Minho was an orientation leader the winter before his second year of university. He wasn’t incredibly keen on becoming one, but his senior advisor urged, and quite frankly, nagged him to no end to volunteer as an orientation leader for the incoming first years in the spring. Something about how he needed to “get out more” and “show them what Seoul National University College of Fine Arts was all about.” 

He got out just fine, thank you very much, but he was proud of his school, and if this is what he needed to do to stay on his advisor’s good side, then sign him right up.

Han Jisung was one of the bright and shining first-years he had advised that summer. Minho had noticed him immediately on the first day, standing in the back of the group dressed in an oversized graphic tee that was not at all suitable for February weather and light washed jeans. His eyes were cast down to the ground, heels rocking back and forth on some chunky platform boots, and Minho couldn’t help but sympathize for him. 

After the group separated for lunch, Minho walked straight to Jisung and invited him to sit with him and another advisor, gathering up the effort to upturn the corners of his lips and increase the vibrancy in his voice to appear as friendly as possible. The younger boy had only blinked curiously at him until finally nodding in agreeance. 

Jisung, as it turned out, was all heart-shaped smiles and rumbling full-body laughter once he was in his element. He had been timid in accepting Minho’s request to eat lunch with him and the other first-year leader Changbin, but within twenty minutes of their conversation, Jisung was already making jabs at the two older boys with no sign of remorse. 

They became fast friends, a constant by each other’s side for the rest of their orientation week. Once classes had started, Minho found himself hastily waving over Jisung in the drafty lecture hall to sit with him in the 2-D Fundamentals class that he was supposed to take in his first year but couldn't because he had slept through course selection the previous semester. 

That’s also why they had found themselves in Jisung’s dorm room on a Friday afternoon after the first week of classes, celebrating the end of a _Long and Painful Week of School,_ as Jisung had so cleverly termed, by making out. 

It was a raw and hungry kiss, and even though the ambiance wasn’t quite there, by the end of the night, they were snuggled into each other’s side on Jisung’s lofted bed. Minho was sure there had been an unspoken rule about this somewhere. It was ill-advised to form any sort of romantic relationship with one of the students in your orientation group, but he obviously didn’t get the memo. 

So they became fast friends and even faster boyfriends, skipping the hassle of endless pining, and lasting a total of eight months before it all came crashing down. 

Now here they are almost a year and a half later, stuck inside of an overpriced coffee shop a couple blocks away from campus, sitting across from one another wordlessly while the background is saturated with shouting baristas and contemporary jazz music. 

\---

Minho swirls around his half-emptied iced Americano. It’s a satisfying feeling: the ice rattling on the plastic while the liquid transfers its weight from one wall of the cup to the other. He has his finger resting against the straw, forcing it to stay stiffly in the middle of the drink while the rest of the beverage volatility splashes around it. 

Jisung is on the other side of him, eyes focused on Minho’s hands while he continues to agitate his coffee. The younger boy is tapping both of his hands on the laminated wood surface erratically while one of his legs bounce up and down, causing the table to wobble. It’s always been a tendency of Jisung's, generating a vibration that rocks everything on the table a couple centimeters away from where it originally was. 

Minho shoots him a glare and glances to where Jisung’s legs are situated, signaling to the younger that he’s jiggling the table, or otherwise, he would’ve never been aware of it. It’s a little harsh for their already tense atmosphere, he supposes, but they’ve already been here for ten minutes with nothing more than a greeting exchanged between them. 

“I was really shocked when I saw the partners list, you know.” Jisung diffidently mutters, ceasing the leg bouncing but continuing to drum on the tabletop with his index fingers. Minho can sense that Jisung is nervous. It doesn't take a genius to be able to tell, with his gaze attentively locked on the power socket beside him rather than even pretending to look near Minho’s eyes. “How are you, hyung?”

“I’m fine,” Minho sets down his coffee and crosses his arm across his chest. He takes a second to scan Jisung’s face. Not much has changed appearance-wise since the last time he saw the younger boy, only that his hair had grown out a bit and it was bleached a honey blonde color rather than the usual black. “How ‘bout you, Sung?” The nickname rolls off of Minho’s tongue effortlessly, even though it’s been over a year since he last said it. 

Jisung doesn’t mention Minho’s slip up and removes his hands from the table to shift into his seat, in a manner that his back is supported by the cross railing of the metal chair. He doesn’t seem to be as on edge now that they’re speaking to one another, no longer making the effort to avert his eyes from Minho’s. 

“Same here,” Jisung says, letting out a heavy sigh. “I heard from Changbin that you were offered a job at one of those big entertainment companies after graduation. Congrats hyung.” 

Minho nods and offers a weak smile in response. Changbin and Jisung became friends from orientation week as well, courtesy of Minho, and although they never got as close as he and Jisung did, Changbin mentioned how they kept in touch every now and then. He should’ve known that Changbin was playing double agent, relaying Minho’s life updates back to the other boy like this. 

“We should really be talking about this project right now.” He doesn't care to waste more time with the pleasantries and points to their backpacks that are propped up on the seats beside them, still untouched. He snatches his bag from the chair, sliding the zipper open and removing his laptop from its sleeve. Jisung follows suit with his own backpack but pulls out a fancy tablet and stylus instead. 

“So I was thinking,” Jisung begins to press on the touchscreen with his stylus, opening up a blank notes page and sectioning it off into neat columns. “It’s supposed to be a city study, right? What if we did like, four parts. For each part of the day.” Jisung looks up to check Minho’s reaction before carrying on with his idea. “Like we do the sections of the city with different shots that fit the vibe for sunrise, midday, sunset, and then midnight? I think it would be cool.”

Even though Jisung is a year below him, Minho has to admit that this idea was far better than anything he had brainstormed prior to their meeting. Jisung is sort of, and Minho _strongly_ _dislikes_ the use of this phrase because it's a cop out of recognizing hard work, an artistic prodigy. 

He’s always at the top of his class, receiving praise from students and professors alike, and Minho admires him for it too. But it wasn’t just natural-born talent. He had been there during the younger’s first year, observing the way he would sit at the computer, editing his projects on Photoshop or Lightroom for endless hours until they were up to some Jisung standard. 

“I mean, it would be easier this way too.” Jisung says, interrupting Minho’s train of thought. “We would have to spend an entire day out from like 6 a.m to 1 in the morning, but I guess that’s better than multiple days.” The end of his sentence sounds more like a question than a statement, but Minho can’t deny that it would be more ideal this way. After all, they would only need one full day of shooting rather than spreading it out over the duration of a week like he had expected. 

“Then this weekend,” he suggests, flipping through his calendar app. “We can shoot all day on Saturday and edit half and half.” 

“Sounds good hyung, I’ll text you more about it later.” Jisung’s quick to pack up his belongings. In a blink of an eye, he’s already rushing out the front door of the café, leaving Minho alone to sit amongst the crowd of procrastinating students and disgruntled office workers.

\---

Their relationship had been easy. 

It had been almost _too easy_ , in Minho’s humble opinion. They were consistently on the same wavelength and didn’t have to work at trying to understand each other. It was something their friends envied them for, tossing the word _soulmate_ around offhandedly whenever it came to the two of them. 

_The idea of Jisung being his soulmate_ , well, it was a pleasant thought.

This is how it ended:

It was the beginning of December, with the school year coming to an end and winter break rapidly approaching. The winter was harsh in Seoul, the wind frigid and stale against his skin. He didn’t mind much, actually preferring to bundle himself up in hoodies, zipups, and padded jackets over summer’s shorts and cropped sleeves, but what he was anticipating the most was the warmth of his boyfriend, who liked to burrow himself into Minho’s back to share body heat in the depths of the night. 

His winter wonderland dreams were demolished in an instant.

Their breakup has always been a sore spot for Minho. It was the night of Jisung’s first year exhibition; the younger had been working day in and day out preparing for it, not even letting Minho so much peek at the photos or designs. He had, however, impatiently expressed his excitement for Minho to see everything on opening night, beaming with a grin that occupied half of his face.

He wouldn't have missed it for the world, not when Jisung had put an exorbitant amount of effort into the exhibition and was eagerly anticipating Minho’s reaction. Besides, he enjoyed these functions more than he’d like to let on, stacked with talent, intricate designs, and pretty pictures.

But he was exhausted after a long day of interviews for the internship at JYP Entertainment and decided on taking a quick nap, setting ten alarms over the course of an hour so that he would be able to make it to the exhibition on time. And because luck just so happened to have his back, he slept through all ten alarms, not stirring until he heard the turn of the lock on his door.

 _Strange,_ he thought, still in a sleep-induced haze. His roommate had rarely ever made himself available, spending more time in his girlfriend’s dorm than in his own. Even when he was in their room, it was during class hours, not while it was close to being midnight. Minho never made a fuss about it though. Why would he when he basically had the room to himself?

The only other person who could get into his dorm at this time would be Jisung.

 _Jisung._ He scrambled up for his phone, which had slid into his pillowcase while he was asleep. There was a frenzy of missed calls and texts from the younger, and when he glanced up, there he was, the man of the hour. 

Jisung was wearing a solemn expression while rubbing his fingers on the collar of his dress shirt. The air was thick and weighted, and Minho knew that this was his moment to apologize, but every attempt at doing so was getting caught in his throat. He wasn't ever the best with words and no amount of them could ever express how remorseful he was for missing the event. 

“Were you here the entire time?” Jisung finally asked, the usual light in his eyes dwindled down to near nonexistence. There’s also a slight shake in his voice, like he was either about to start hysterically laughing or crying. He couldn't tell.

“Yeah,” he responded while his heart thundered anxiously in his chest. He was sure that the younger boy was about to start yelling profanities at him any second, which Minho undoubtedly deserved. 

“You didn't come. I thought that you fucking died or something,” Jisung’s voice was cracking on every other syllable, but there was an increasing hostility in his tone. “I told you, I fucking told you how much it meant to me, but you were just in here. Guess that's more important than me.” 

“There’s always next time” was the only thing he could muster up. It’s honestly pathetic. He knew that an apology would've been more appropriate and more appreciated as well. Then, he could have found some way to make it up to the younger. But his mouth had run in front of his brain, unable to express any of the guilt pooling at the pit of his stomach.

It wasn’t like him and Jisung weren’t having problems prior to this, but their fights were always over something petty and solvable with a quick peck to the lips and a muddled apology. In the eight months that he had dated Jisung, there was never a moment where he had doubted their love for one another. 

“Do you even wanna continue this?” The words that Jisung whispered into the December air throws Minho in for the biggest loop of the decade. He looked at the younger, mouth slightly agape in shock before Jisung continued.

“It’s not just the exhibition, hyung. I know you're tired from the interview.” Minho could hear Jisung scratching his fingers onto the fabric of his dress pants, the sound of the younger’s nails against the material providing a well-needed rhythm to this irregular night. “I just can’t do this anymore. We’re both obviously busy, and I know you love me and I love you, but us being together is stressing me out more than any relationship should.” _And here was the kicker_. “I think it’d be better if we just broke up now before it got any worse.” The last part of that was spoken under Jisung’s breath, but Minho had heard it so clearly.

They’re frozen in place. Jisung was standing at the foot of Minho's bed while the elder sat on the mattress with his back pressed against one of his pillows, both of them in silent contemplation. Jisung was waiting for his response, but his lips were on a roll with the betrayal that night, unable to form anything that would come close to resembling an argument. It’s all fluttering inside his mind, _how they would be fine come daybreak. How he didn't mean to miss the exhibition, and Minho would definitely make more of an effort_ _to spend time with him._ _How he’s being unfair and not giving them a chance to work on their issues._ But because he’s an apparent asshole, none of it was manifested verbally. 

Jisung clicked his tongue and made his way towards the door, turning the knob cautiously so that it wouldn't squeak. Before he was able to pull the door open, Minho gulped out an “I’m sorry.” 

“I’ll see you around, hyung.”

And just like that, Jisung made his way out of the room with a bittersweet smile, softly locking the door behind him and leaving Minho upright on his bed. He wasn't a crier, but the tears would be soon to fall once the shock faded and the reality set in. That there would be no Jisung come Christmastime and no Jisung to start his third year of university with strong. 

They had another conversation a day later in an empty lecture hall, and albeit less melodramatic, they reached the same conclusion. _They were too busy, Jisung was too stressed, Minho was too involved in securing internships and connections, and Minho missing out on the exhibition was the last straw._ The list went on.

So much for understanding each other like the back of their hands and so much for soulmates, because Minho thought they were on as different pages, scratch that, different books as they could've possibly been.

It is what it is. One day, they were in love. The next day they were still in love, but it’s just not enough to keep them going anymore. 

\---

**이민호:**

Where do you want to meet on Saturday ?

**한지성:**

By the same cafe 

Let’s meet at 6:45 to set up, sunrise is around 7:40 

**이민호:**

Cool

I’ll see you then

**한지성:**

See you hyung

\---

**6:45 a.m**

Minho was positive that his professor was crazy. Said professor had partnered up the project pairs by randomly assigning them across the different sections of his Photo Workshop class, babbling some bullshit on how the students should be forming relationships and perspectives with peers outside of their immediate circles. Minho honestly wasn’t all that familiar with anyone in his class to begin with, let alone anyone in the afternoon section.

Or so he thought. 

He’s standing in front of the coffee shop at 6:45 a.m sharp with two iced Americanos in hand. He’s guilty of a caffeine addiction, like most college students are, but it’s more of a peace offering for Jisung when he arrives. Jisung is no morning person and neither is Minho, but they’re in no condition to have two non-morning people coexisting at dawn, so he keeps it together in the name of teamwork and the younger’s sanity. 

Speaking of Jisung, Minho can make out the figure of the younger boy in the far distance, clutching at the straps of his camera bag with a black face mask falling slightly below his nose. Jisung is walking, or more like haphazardly jogging, towards Minho’s direction. There's a bounce in the younger’s step that's not compatible with the yawn that’s growing on the same individual’s face, but he doesn't question it. They’re only a couple of meters away from each other now, and Minho notices Jisung catching sight of him by the café, so he waves one of the coffees to acknowledge him. 

“I got us coffee.” He holds out one of the drinks once the boy is only a few steps away. Jisung rubs at his eyes and proceeds to reach out a hand to grab it, but before he can wrap his fingers around the cup, Minho snatches it away just so he can have some innocent fun with the younger. 

“Hey, give it to me!” Jisung grouches, stretching his arm perpendicular to the rest of his body. 

“Nuh uh. Say the magic word?” Minho smirks, not yet done with his badgering. He brings the coffee above his head so that even if Jisung gets on his tippy toes, he’s not able to get a hold of it. Jisung isn’t having it though, the younger boy slapping his hands down to his sides bluntly and shooting a glare that was far more vicious than anything Minho had seen before. 

“Please don't do this to me right now, hyung. It's like 6 in the morning.” This time, Minho allows for the coffee to escape his grasp easily, the elder not caring to put up a fight anymore. It seems as though his attempt at scattering any awkward tension has completely backfired. 

Jisung sips on the beverage quietly, fumbling with the straw every few mouthfuls. Afterward, he slips the cup into the mesh pocket of the camera bag, fastening the straps back onto his shoulders before squeezing his eyes shut. This lasts for a good minute before Minho clears his throat to compel the younger boy to look at him. 

“Shall we start?” Minho turns his head towards the vicinity of the busy intersection. 

“Lead the way.”

\---

**12:34 p.m.**

After spending the past five hours in the middle of Seoul’s streets, they’ve ended up at the same café as before, downloading the photos from Jisung's camera onto their laptops and tablets. Minho sifts through the images to choose a few standout shots. They’re decent, with Seoul’s hazy morning skies acting as the backdrop for the herds of people and buildings. It’s the bare minimum, but he mentally applauds the two of them for being able to capture this even in their most lethargic states. 

It had been a tedious process with only more to come: the two of them snaking in and out of the crowds, stepping on each other's toes, and crouching down low to get the shots they wanted. He can still register the ache of his knees and achilles' tendon from kneeling on the rough concrete, but overall they had worked together quite cordially.

Now, they're too focused on their respective devices to engage in idle chit-chat, but Minho’s stomach grumbles in the midst of their silence. He lets out a slight groan. The discomfort of not eating breakfast and only drinking coffee on an empty stomach was finally catching up to him. 

Jisung cocks his head to the side, looking up from his tablet questionably at Minho. Minho draws up a sheepish smile, not wanting to interrupt Jisung’s concentration, but the younger has a different idea altogether, gathering up his belongings and shoving it into his bag carelessly, motioning for Minho to do the same. 

When they exit the coffee shop, Minho is instantly hit by the drastic change in temperature. The fog from earlier had long vanished with the rising sun, and the air outside was much warmer than the air in the climate-controlled café, but it still wasn't hot enough to warrant Minho taking off his hoodie in favor of the t-shirt underneath.

“Let’s get lunch.” Jisung says, tossing away his snack wrappers and empty coffee cup into a trash can situated by the building. He misses his aim with one of the wrappers, huffing to catch it before it flies away in the wind and then proceeds to throw it back into the bin with more accuracy before returning to his spot next to Minho. 

“If we want to make it to the river by sunset, we should probably walk this way and find something to eat,” Minho reasons, turning his head towards the direction of their eventual destination. “You still like fried chicken?”

“Yeah, let’s go.” Jisung responds with two thumbs up and a grin that's sneaking up on his lips. He sidesteps Minho, forcing Minho to whirl around to catch up with the younger. 

They begin to walk in tandem. It's somewhat reminiscent of their days together; Minho would grasp onto Jisung's fingers with a feather-light touch. They were never the traditional hand holding type, at least out in the open, opting for secretive moments of skinship that left Jisung a blushing mess nonetheless. Then they’d stroll through Seoul with a lull that neither of them cared to fill.

The silence now is tainted with a splash of awkwardness, yet it's so unnervingly familiar that Minho almost deludes himself into thinking that he could crack a silly joke that would cause Jisung to embarrass them in a crowd of people, leaning against him in a loud roar of laughter. He gnaws at his lips and contemplates the idea, but decides that it's best not to test his luck right now.

They arrive at the restaurant, weaving their way to an empty table in the midst of the lunch rush. Neither one of them have to look at the menu, nor do they have any real intrigue towards the faded pictures of chicken inserted into the greasy plastic sheets, but it's just customary. Eventually, a waitress comes to take their orders, the same orders that Minho has heard endless times before, causing one side of his mouth to lift up in a smirk from the familiarity of it all.

But his moment of contentment is quickly burst when Jisung takes his phone from his back pocket and starts scrolling through his various social media feeds. Minho does the same, replying to the texts that he's received throughout the morning but hasn't had the time to answer. There’s no better way to explain the situation than _they're on speaking but not really_ terms with each other. Every so often, he peers over his phone screen as if to get a cue to talk, but the younger boy is so engrossed in whatever he’s looking at that Minho doesn't have to heart to start any conversation.

He’s long forgotten about his hunger, but when the food arrives and the smell wafts up Minho’s nose, his stomach aches as a reminder. He picks up his chopsticks and grabs a piece of chicken, promptly shoving into his mouth. It’s not the best he’s ever had, but it's not the worst, and it does the job of satiating him for the time being. Jisung does the same, his cheeks puffing out as he chews, a habit that had previously left Minho pinching at the younger’s face in affection.

“It’s good.” Jisung speaks after swallowing a mouthful of food. He picks up another piece of chicken, which Minho doesn't pay any mind to, but the piece is suddenly centimeters away from his own lips. Jisung is on the other end urging him to take a bite, so he opens his mouth weakly, giving Jisung a free pass to feed him and savoring the flavor of the meat. 

“It is good,” he mumbles through a mouthful of food. “It’s not as good as mine though.”

“Well, I can’t handle spice. You know that.” Jisung replies, picking up another piece of his chicken. Minho hums, recalling how the younger recoiled even at the slightest tinge of spice. Time had not changed Jisung’s palette. 

“We're so awkward now. You used to kinda just say whatever you wanted to.” Jisung says this like he's just pointing out the obvious, stirring the straw in his water with a blank look on his face. Minho, on the contrary, chokes on the food that was traveling down his throat, sending out a painful cough that has him pounding on his chest with a clenched fist.

"Do you want me to say whatever I want?" Minho cocks an eyebrow at him once he has his composure back. The question does not come out as smooth as he had intended it to, but in his defense, he was caught off guard. _When were they on anything but acquaintance level terms? Does Jisung know something that he doesn't?_

"I think that's what I just implied, yes.” Jisung quips, not even so much glancing up from his drink. It’s all too casual, perhaps too bold from someone who didn't appear to want to make conversation with him earlier, but he’s in no position to argue, so he says what he considers the next best thing.

"You have crumbs all over your mouth." He deadpans, putting on his best intimidating face. It’s the same one that either scares off most people from approaching him before they even get a glimpse of his personality or has people commenting on how they thought he was a grade-A douchebag before they really knew him. 

"Fuck off. I do not.” It does nothing to intimidate Jisung, the younger returning the look with an equally stern stare, but he wipes aggressively the area around his lips with a napkin anyway. 

Minho smirks, crossing his arms and legs in a dramatic fashion and internally claiming this moment as a win for himself. “Well, you told me to say whatever I wanted to, did you not?”

“At least be truthful about it.” 

“I am being truthful about it.” Minho’s voice raises an octave as if to convince Jisung of his honesty. “You have something right here.” He leans across the table and swipes his ring finger on Jisung’s upper lip to rub away a stray crumb that had been missed by the napkin. 

He doesn't know what possessed him to do such a thing, but when he catches sight of Jisung’s eyes widening at Minho’s actions, he’s quick to pull back his hand. It comes at a second too late, His body temperature rises in embarrassment, which means no mercy for his reddening face, but suddenly, Jisung is rambling about their next course of action, diverting any unwanted attention onto their itenary for the rest of the day. 

They pay for their food and make their way back onto the narrow walkways to their next location. There are more people now than before, most likely due to the influx of shoppers and grade schoolers who aren't bound to the classroom on the weekends. 

It’s a lively sight, and Jisung pulls out his camera with a smile directed at Minho, a green light for him to begin setting up their tripod. 

Something as minuscule as a smile has him erupting in a flurry of butterflies. He’s experienced this once before and there’s only one thing that it could truly mean. That perhaps he wasn't as over Jisung as he had thought _,_ but the acknowledgement ends there. 

\---

**7:14 p.m.**

Jisung is perched on top of Minho’s shoulders at the Han River to get the angle of the photos right, with the younger boy uttering a theatning “don’t let me fall or I’ll kill you” just moments before. 

“Han River? Should we throw in a little Han Jisung too?” He wobbles on the balls of his feet, just enough to get the message across. He would never let Jisung fall, he’s sure that the younger is aware of that too, but Jisung’s fear of heights is a primal instinct that comes before any sort of level headed reasoning. He’s not blaming Jisung; he doesn't think he would fare well in the same position, but his unsteadiness causes the younger to yelp and cling onto his neck tightly. The cold touch of Jisung’s fingers startles Minho, so he stabilizes himself against the railing so that Jisung is able to get a good shot of the kayakers on the river ahead of them. 

“That wasn’t funny.”

“Really? Then let me try again.” Minho barely can get the words out before he's stopped by Jisung’s shoe, the rubber heel kicking into the side of his waist with an uncalculated amount of force. It's hard enough that he almost actually topples over this time, with no one to blame but Jisung. 

“Sorry, sorry!” The younger erupts into laughter for being the cause of Minho’s misfortune, like he’s forgotten that he’s the one sitting on top of Minho’s shoulders. He sticks his tongue out in retaliation but returns to their place on the railing for the extra support. 

“I think we got it!” Jisung shouts overhead the same moment that his shoulders feel the slightest tinge of ache. It’s impeccable timing, and Minho bends his knees to let Jisung climb off of him and onto the ground. 

Jisung bounces up and down several times while clicking the camera buttons animatedly until he comes to the realization that Minho can't see anything he’s looking at, turning his body so that the screen of the camera is away from the glare and in view.

“These are pretty, hyung!” Jisung is now yelling at a loud enough volume that a couple bystanders glance in their direction, clicking on the buttons so that the pictures flitter through the screen one by one. They are pretty, he’ll agree. Even though the same scene is in front of him, the stillness of the images gives the river a melancholic and nostalgic aura. That’s the magic of a camera after all, capturing emotions in stills that aren't as well illustrated when in action. 

“I think we did pretty well, yeah?” He takes the camera into his hands and looks through the photos at his own pace. Even with a second look thorough, when he’s usually the most critical of himself, he’s satisfied with what's on the screen.

“But don’t speak too soon, we still have one more part to finish.” Jisung scolds him, a full 180° from his prior joyfulness. 

_“Don’t speak too soon, we still have one more part to finish,”_ he repeats, pitching up and slurring together Jisung’s words. Jisung _was_ being a little hypocritical for both lifting and dropping the mood in the matter of minutes after all, so Minho scrunches his face in mock disgust before handing the camera back to Jisung. 

“I’d think you were younger than me if I didn't know any better.” Jisung squints at him and pulls the strap of the camera over his head, letting the camera fall in place like a bold fashion statement. 

Jisung turns towards the setting sun and leans his arms against the metal rail, giving Minho a full view of his side profile. He’s always been good looking, with a nose that slopes down gently, opposing the sharp line of his jaw. The sunbeams also hit Jisung’s face perfectly, bringing out the golden undertones of his skin and unveiling an evanescent glimmer in his eyes. 

His feet throb from the combination of standing all day and wearing shoes with faulty arch support, so he leans against the railing to alleviate some of the pain, and takes in the scene for all its glory. It’s a sweet escape from usual student life, the sunset transforming the sky from a pale blue to an amber yellow to a lilac that will swiftly put the city into darkness. He shuts his eyes and inhales deeply, causing his chest to tighten and exhales slowly, releasing all the pent up stress from his body. 

The sound of a camera shutter cuts through his momentary tranquility, with the source of the sound being Jisung, pointing the large DSLR at him with a smug look on his face. 

“Stop taking pictures of me, Jisung.” He lowers his head so that his eyes are hooded in disapproval, bringing his hand up to cover the lens of the camera but careful not to actually make contact with it so that it's not marked with fingerprints later. 

“But you're so handsome, hyung,” Jisung whines and brings the camera back up so that one of his eyes aligns with the viewfinder, pressing a button to sneak more photos. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer, right?” 

It was what Minho used to say to Jisung whenever the latter questioned him about why he went into Design and Media. Sometimes it was also when he caught the younger blanking and staring at him for an uncomfortable amount of time. Sure, it’s an overused phrase, one that’s both ironically and unironically printed on cheap merchandise or posted on quote websites in Papyrus font, but Minho never dubbed himself as the next Shakespeare.

He digresses.The real issue at hand is that Jisung is taunting him. He’s taunting him and it's working because Minho’s been rendered speechless, and although he’s not one to wear his emotions on his sleeves, the tips of his ears betray him, heating up a vibrant red.

“I don’t think this was part of the project, Jisungie,” he says menacingly, not easily beat at his own game. In an instant, he stretches his hand towards Jisung’s own to pry it off of the camera buttons. Jisung's grip on the camera is stronger than he had anticipated, and with the two of them fighting over control, the shutter goes off a couple times, sure to have taken some blurry shots of their feet. 

Eventually, even Jisung’s best efforts to evade his attacks are to no avail when Minho finds the camera slipping from the younger’s fingers. They probably shouldn't be wrestling over an expensive camera, but he doesn’t miss the opportunity to seize Jisung’s wrist, yanking it off and letting the camera hit his chest with a thud. 

“You win, you win, you win,” he surrenders to Minho’s satisfaction with their hands still in contact. His fingers are positioned in such a way that they are loosely laced together with Jisung’s. Maybe he’s overstepping, but when Jisung doesn’t make a move to pull back, neither does he. 

\---

**12:02 a.m.**

The sun had set long ago, leaving the two of them sitting on a grassy patch facing the Han River in near darkness. They had finished ten minutes ago, photographing the empty sidewalks and bike trails adjacent to the water.

It’s quiet where they are with the exception of a few car engines and motorcyclists on the bridge above, but the pedestrians have mostly gone home. Despite the fact that it's already mid-April, the air contains a winter chill. It’s the transition season, and there’s a slight breeze hitting Minho at an unpleasant angle, making the chill feel more intense than it actually is. 

_It’s peaceful_ , he muses. More peaceful than the sunset hours even. He doesn’t spend nearly enough time enjoying the city as is, spending most of his nights cooped up in his apartment building or at a hole-in-the-wall restaurant one of his classmates recommended. 

“This feels like that one time.” Jisung pipes up. He’s sitting with one of his legs outstretched while the other leg pulled into his chest. Minho doesn’t need to ask him to elaborate. He knows exactly what time Jisung is referring to. It was when they had only been dating for three months, deciding to play the part of a stereotypical couple for the night. They took a taxi to the river, fishing out money that they didn’t have to pay for the ride but justified it by claiming that the memories they’d make would be far more valuable than any amount of money that they could’ve spent. 

They spent most of their time strolling along the path adjacent to the water, fingers locked in each other’s, the moonlight not bright enough to draw the attention of a passerby. Then, they had made their way up to one of the grassy areas, eerily similar to the one they were sitting in right now, and exchanged thoughts on a couple of trivial matters for another two hours before eventually making their way back to the dorms in the early morning.

It was the first and last time they’d ever gone to the river together. 

That is, until now.

It was a stark difference to how they were in this moment, proving to Minho that even though they could be the same people in the same place, they just weren’t the _same_ anymore. 

He had let himself think about their relationship, but only in passing, spending most of today suppressing the fact that they had dated and settled for friends instead. They were friends once upon a time, and for a while earlier, it’s like their friendship had never escaped them. Yet there’s a myriad of questions that are persisting in his mind that he desperately wants answers to, so he takes the dive and asks–

“Do you think we would have lasted if we just tried harder?”

There had been indirect references to their relationship all day, but it’s the first time that either of them has blatantly mentioned it. From his peripheral, he can see Jisung glancing at him. The younger boy averts his gaze as quickly as it had come and emulates Minho’s position by unlatching his hands from his knee and leaning his body back, his arms locked as support behind him. There’s a biker or two that passes them by, the sound of the rickety wheels on the smooth pavement filling the spaces.

“I don’t think so.” Minho was certain that he didn’t have any expectations for Jisung’s response, but there’s a tinge of disappointment when he wanted to feel something more comparable to regret. Not that either was favorable, just that maybe in a parallel universe, Minho and Jisung would still have a chance at being the inseparable duo instead of whatever they were right now. 

“It was too volatile then,” Jisung’s lips thin into a downturned line. “I wasn’t used to university life and then not even two weeks later, I had a boyfriend. And then all the classes and exams,” Jisung brings both of his legs to meet his chest this time, wrapping himself up to be as small as humanly possible. The rest of his words are muffled into his jeans. “We talked about this then, but it was just too much for me, hyung. And you were really trying to prove yourself too and get that internship, and after a while, it just felt like you didn’t have time for me anymore. I don’t think we would’ve lasted longer than we did.”

“I see.” He makes the best effort he can to not let the discontentment show, but there’s a slight frown settling in on his face. 

Jisung apparently takes note of this and reaches his hand out to meet Minho’s chin, gently brushing against it, prompting him to look Jisung in the face before the younger lets his fingers fall back down onto the grass. “But hyung, don’t get me wrong. We’re on the same page now, right? Like, I didn’t read you wrong, right? I still–” Jisung stalls and stares his round eyes directly into Minho’s, like he’s searching for a clue-in on how Minho is internally reacting to his spiel. He blinks profusely at that, eyes suddenly dry from the combination of crisp night air and Jisung’s untactful look. 

“I still–,” Jisung whispers, hardly audible when a bus passes them overhead, “like you. I’ve always liked you, even after we broke up, and I think you like me too? It’s just, wrong time, the wrong place, and that happens sometimes, and maybe this is out of line, but I don’t want us to be afraid of trying again.” They both shift their bodies to face the river, serenely flowing through Seoul, providing a nice contrast to the usual strident and vigorous city life. 

“Well, we worked pretty well in the beginning, didn’t we?” The rhetorical question comes tumbling from his tongue. He’s being too resentful, and the sourness of the syllables sting on his lips. He adds on a chuckle for good measure to diffuse whatever tension he’s created from Jisung’s words. 

He’s sure that the younger means nothing but well, yet at the same time, Jisung every so often says more than what he actually means to. Most of the confession flew in one ear and out the other, but he does latch onto Jisung’s _don’t want to be afraid_ _of trying again,_ and well, this is not exactly the right opportunity to be idealistic. 

“I’d say we still work pretty well now, and I’ve matured, don’t you think?” 

Minho will admit that this day went much better than the disaster he had built up, but as the king of evasion, he lifts a pointer finger to poke at the apple of Jisung’s cheek. “I don’t know about that Sungie, you still look the same to me,” he hums with an exaggerated look of skepticism, complete with a raised eyebrow.

Jisung slaps him on the shoulder, which is playful in practice, but the aftermath of the younger’s palm meeting Minho’s arm leaves him wincing in pain. 

“I’m kidding, geez!” He shoves his hand under his hoodie and rubs on the patch of skin that was just hit to soothe the irritation. “But you have matured a lot. I don’t think you were this open and honest about anything ever.”

Jisung scoffs. “Well that's because we pretended to know everything about each other.” 

_Ouch._ “That’s harsh, ‘pretended’ to know,” he snorts back. 

“Don’t act like it's not true though. Everyone was always like ‘you and Jisung work so well together, you don't have to even talk to each other because you guys always know what the other person is thinking. I’m so jealous’ and look where we ended up. Looking back on it now, I don't think we knew a thing about each other.” 

“I guess you're right,” Minho mumbles. It's not like this thought has never crossed his mind, but it was easier to believe that him and Jisung were ill-fated lovers rather than people who just didn't care to communicate. “I don't think I ever wanted to think about it like that though until now. Some of your so-called maturity must be getting to me.”

Jisung ignores the last part of that and opts to pick at the grass instead, pulling up the roots and causing the dirt to scatter around the affected area. The frequency of the cars on the bridge has slowed considerably, leaving the only sound between them the streaming river. Minho is the one that breaks the silence this time around.

“I thought you hated me for the longest time.” He confesses with no intention other than to continue the conversation. 

“Why is that, hyung?” Jisung has now diverted his attention to removing the clumps of dirt from the roots of the grass. Minho picks up one of the blades and follows suit, occupying his hands with something to distract from his own honesty. 

“Am I supposed to believe that you didn't? I mean, we broke up and okay sure, most people don't stay friends but–,” he lets the grass fall to the side, brushing off any of the debris that landed on his hoodie. “I thought we would try and then you never reached out so I didn't say anything either. The way I reacted to the situation wasn't the best either. I guess I just defaulted to you hating me and stuck with it.”

Jisung looks up from his hands, grass still in tow when he says “I could never hate you.”

“Well I know that now,” Minho retorts. Today, if anything, has shown him that that was the case. There wasn't a moment that he felt like the younger boy hated him, not at 6 in the morning when they were both puffy-faced and caffeine deprived, not even at the café earlier in the week when they were discussing the project, and certainly not in this moment. 

“That's funny though. I wasn't as extreme with it, calling it hate and all, but I didn't think you wanted to ever see me again. Not after what I did.” Jisung admits. He was justified for thinking that way, but it couldn't have been more untrue on Minho's end. Sure, Jisung was the one to prompt the breakup, but he had wanted nothing more than for Jisung to continue being his friend, even when his heart had been shattered into pieces. Probably not the healthiest decision if he was trying to get over the younger, but it's looking more likely than not that they never got over each other regardless.

“I mean, I probably wouldn't have ever seen you again had it not been for this."

"Sure but,” there's a glimmer in Jisung's irises that wasn't there before. “Your subconscious wanted to see me again, did it not?"

Minho neither verbally confirms nor denies that claim, but he’s convinced that Jisung already knows the answer.

"But hyung, you still haven't answered my question from earlier." Jisung whines, but his tone doesn't match the timidly creeping fingers that Jisung is trailing against his hand. 

"You didn't ask anything.” 

"Here we go again.” Jisung rolls his eyes far into the back of his head, but there's an endearing smile that indicates no malice. “Do you want to try again, hyung? That’s my question. Do you want to try again?" 

It’s funny how even after almost two years of being apart, they’re here all over again. Does he want to try again? They’ve been so far removed from each other's lives and have plenty to catch up on. Maybe he’s not in his right mind for holding onto a relationship that only lasted for a blip in the grand scheme of things, but when it comes down to it, there is no doubt in his answer.

"Yeah, I want to." 

"Okay? We’ll take it slow, and I know it's been a long time and I've learned from my mistakes and…” Jisung pauses in the middle of his babbling. All the while, he's inching closer to Minho’s face until there’s barely a hair width of space between the two of them. “I just don't want us to end like that again." 

"I know Sung. I believe you. It's the same for me too." Minho breathes and surges forward, closing the distance between their lips.

\---

**3:03 a.m.**

To say he expected the events of today would be an utter lie. He’s giddy and light on his feet from the past couple of hours he spent with Jisung, with their project finished and their relationship reignited, exchanging soft kisses in the dark. They parted ways after Jisung pulled himself out of Minho’s lap, but when he finally did, Minho found himself missing the warmth of the younger's instantly. 

It’s around 3 in the morning when he gets a notification on his phone that Jisung had emailed all of the photos to him for editing. He had only just gotten home, kicking off his shoes in the doorway before clicking on the notification bubble a little too excitedly, his phone lagging to load everything in high resolution. 

When it eventually does load, there they are. All the pictures from the project, and even the few that Jisung took of him at sunset, attached into a digital file. He fights back the combination of a yawn and a smile, staring down at photos that immortalized the day they spent together. 

Photography meant many things to Lee Minho, but here’s a fifth:

Photography is the reason why he has the chance to try again.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reaching the end!
> 
> kudos and comments are always appreciated. <3


End file.
